


Hard To Say

by Huggle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped Castiel, M/M, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4934518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huggle/pseuds/Huggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wants to know when it happened - when Cas knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard To Say

“Come on, Cas,” Dean said. He was under the Impala, his voice carrying up through the car’s works and open hood. “It’s not a hard question.”

Castiel leaned against the side of the car, his focus on the book of lore he’d rescued from the box the brothers had planned to hand into charity. It hadn’t seemed a good idea to let it end up on someone’s coffee table.

“I just don’t see why it matters,” he said, finally. “Why are so you interested?”

Dean rolled out from under the car and fixed Castiel with a stare. “Why are you avoiding the question?”

Castiel looked down at him, and then returned his attention to the book. 

Dean chuckled and then tried to reach for his toolbox. Castiel nudged it closer with his foot.

“Thanks,” Dean said. He started to slide back under the car then paused to wave the spanner at the angel. “I bet it was that old folks’ home in Vermont, right? When my nerd herd saved the day, huh?”

Castiel sighed. “No, Dean. It wasn’t then.”

**

“Well, this is fucked up.” Dean got unsteadily to his feet, unsure when he’d actually hit the floor. Then one of the sprites – short, grey, _naked_ \- shot past, giggling. 

“Fucked up! Fucked up!”

It sounded like Chris Rock on helium. They all did. 

Dean watched as another – maybe the same one, who knew – started trying to wrestle some old lady’s zimmer frame away from her.

Two more were trying to launch the TV through a window and a fourth had grabbed a wet floor sign and was slamming it against every solid surface in sight.

As a matter of fact, Dean was pretty sure he was the first solid surface the little bastard had whacked with it, which was how he’d ended up on the floor in the first place.

He stared at the shotgun in his hands and lowered it regretfully. In here, it’d do more damage than good, and he didn’t even think it’d work on those fucks anyway.

Sam barrelled into the room and threw something at Dean. He caught it easily and then stared at it in puzzlement.

“A pillowcase?” 

Sam had three more, and like Dean’s, they’d been hastily written on with a sharpie. 

“This’ll work,” his brother promised. “We just need to catch them, stuff them in the pillowcases and then toss them in flowing water.”

Dean turned to stare at the sprites. He guessed it would work, because the creatures were advancing on them murderously. Dean didn’t know how he’d missed the claws before. Or the teeth. Really, really long, sharp teeth.

“So, catch them? Any ideas how we’re going to do that, Sammy?”

Castiel was there, suddenly, pushing them behind him even as he grabbed the pillow cases. “I thought you were waiting until I got here,” he said. He shot Sam a glare.

“Don’t get mad at me,” Sam protested. “Dean’s the one who can’t stick to the plan.”

“Which I didn’t know about until you came in,” Dean said. “How come you two were off doing all the strategy on this one?”

Castiel didn’t answer him; he lobbed the four pillow cases and each one landed smartly over a sprite and knotted itself. 

The four creatures rolled around on the floor, screeching angrily.

“How did you even do that?” Dean demanded.

Castiel picked up two of the trapped sprites and thrust them at Dean, and the other two he passed to Sam.

“The sigils only last ten minutes,” he said. “If I were you, I’d hurry. I located a stream that should be deep enough at the southern end of the grounds.”

As they ran for the car, Dean glared at Sam’s back. “So how come you two _did_ end up making the plan come together on this one?”

Sam huffed at him. “What are you, jealous?”

“No,” Dean said, hating that he sounded like he was. “I can read too, you know.”

**

Dean let it go – for about half an hour. Enough time to wash up, change clothes and get back downstairs where the roast was just about ready.

He couldn’t find the oven mitt, so Castiel lifted the roasting tin out and set it down on the trestle. As Dean carved, he nodded at the angel.

“I bet it was-“

“Dean.”

“What? It’s not weird that I want to know. The cemetery? In Buffalo. Right? Has to be.”

“Why does it ‘have to be’?”

Dean grinned. “Come on. Seriously? Dude, I’ve got eyes.”

**  
“He’s here, I know it,” Sam said.

Dean turned in a fast circle, his torch beam casting shadows off the tombstones surrounding them. “I know, Sammy, I know. Cas! Come on, man, give us a clue here!”

The two of them stood in silence, straining for anything they might hear. Praying for it.

If they didn’t find Cas by midnight, they’d lose him forever, and they only had about ten minutes.

To search a cemetery about the size of a small town, it seemed.

“If we just start looking, we’ll never find him,” Sam said. “What did she say? The psychic?”

Dean closed his eyes, trying to remember exactly what the woman who’d taken Cas had told them. Smirking all the time. “In plain sight. If you know where to look. Which doesn’t help one bit. If we knew where to look, of course he’d be in plain sight.”

“No, the next part. About the living not lying among the dead. So she hasn’t buried him. Thank God.”

Dean nodded. The thought of Cas tried in a coffin somewhere brought back memories of when he’d woke up in that same situation. But all the same, she’d told them the angel was here, and where the hell else was there to hide someone in a cemetery?

“He’ll be in the last place you look for him. Once you’ve given up hope. Where would we go after we’ve given up hope?” Dean stared desperately at his brother. He tried to put himself in that position, tried to imagine what it would be like, to see his watch show midnight, and know they’d lost their friend.

That they’d let him down. Where would they go?

He couldn’t do it. Even thinking about it felt like they’d given up on Cas.

He jumped when Sam suddenly turned around and bolted back the way they’d come. “Sam? Sam!”

“Once we’d lost him, once we’d given up,” Sam yelled back at him. “There’d only be one thing to do! Come on, Dean, we’re nearly out of time!”

Dean raced after Sam, suddenly realising. Sneaky psychic bitch. He caught up to his brother just as he reached the car, and tore open the door, and then Sam was on his back, on the ground, with an armful of angel.

Dean dropped to his knees next to them, glanced quickly at his watch. One minute to midnight.

“Fuck you, you bitch!” he yelled, and set to helping Castiel out of the warded cuffs and gag. Then he slumped down against the car, and watched as Sam checked their angel over to make sure he was ok.

It did take him a while.

**

“I’m a little drunk,” Dean said. 

Castiel stared down at him. Dean was in his arms, head tucked against the angel’s shoulder. 

“I know,” he said. 

He started upstairs, to Dean’s room, and thought the door open as he reached the landing.

It was easy enough to set Dean down. He didn’t bother with the covers. A drunken Dean was a restless Dean. The last time he’d tucked Dean in like that, the hunter had gotten his legs tangled in the sheets when he’d tried to get up in a hurry, tumbled out of bed and broken his ankle.

Castiel had heard about it continuously for almost a week.

He did retrieve a bottle of water from the kitchen, broke the seal, and sat it on the cabinet next to the bed.

“I think I’ve got it,” Dean said, as Castiel was about to leave.

Castiel glanced back; his hand was on the doorknob. “Dean.”

“Don’t look at me like that, Cas,” Dean protested. He tried to sit up, but had to slump back and continued talking to the ceiling. “I got no problem with it, you know that. I promise. I just keep trying to figure out how I missed when it started.”

Castiel returned to his side. “Perhaps when you’re sober,” he said. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Gonna remember you said that. Night, Cas.” 

Castiel rested his hand on Dean’s forehead, assuring him a night of peaceful sleep, and then went downstairs. 

He sat in the front room, in the darkness, until his phone rang.

“Hello, Sam. No, he’s sleeping. It’s been quiet. Are you well? I’ll wait for you. I don’t mind.”

**

Exhausted, aching, Castiel remained at Dean Winchester’s resting place long enough to be sure the human was whole again and would awake with his faculties intact. He’d done what he could to shield him from the worst memories of Hell, but some of it would remain. 

Unfortunately, they had arrived too late to prevent Dean, and with him the first seal, being broken. Now, the battle was truly joined, and he could feel the alarm spreading through the ranks. Every angel was being summoned and prepared. 

But he had time, for this at least.

He had no problem tracking down Sam Winchester. While his garrison had laid siege to Hell, other angels had been given the task of finding out all they could about the Winchester brothers. The younger one’s dalliance with the demon had quickly come to light, and there had been a few contradictory orders handed down about what was to be done about, or to, the boy.

Castiel had intercepted and held the orders until his superiors seemed able to come to a consensus. Better to wait than do something in haste which they might have to undo later.

Besides, he wanted to see this younger Winchester for himself. He had recreated Dean, reformed him, and if Sam now posed a threat to his charge Castiel needed to know of it.

It was simple enough to observe Sam, even while he kept a distant eye on Dean. He was aware when Dean awoke. He was aware when Dean forced his way out of the coffin and began to walk towards the nearest civilisation he could find.

He had time to contact him.

So, he travelled to the location of Sam Winchester, and found him asleep though not peacefully.

While he dreamed, Castiel stole into his mind and learned him, much as he had his brother.

By the time he was done, he was glad he had held off allowing anything to be done to Sam, and had decided that as much as Dean would need and was worthy of his protection in the coming months, Sam was also.

Decided, he took his leave of Sam and went to introduce himself to Dean.

**

Sam was slumped next to him on the sofa, half asleep, yet still awake enough to be amused at his brother’s antics.

“What brought that on?”

“I don’t know. But he was very persistent.”

Sam chuckled. “Oh, _that_ doesn’t sound at all like Dean.”

“He’ll probably continue with it when he wakes up.”

Sam stayed silent for a moment. Then he sat up and turned to face Castiel.

“So? When was it?”

“When was what?”

“Cas! When did you know?”

Castiel mirrored Sam’s position, turned inward to face him. “Earlier than you think.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a comment-fic prompt.


End file.
